Sunday, 12 March 2017


Who will mourn if the ‘come down’ doesn’t wake him?
Not you or I for sure.
He fought and lost his battle within
And on any help had slammed shut the door.
No tears will seep from us, for his life was sin –
But not always, there was a time before
When he’d paid taxes and had kin.
He knew what love was, and his family did implore,
But he left them for dead when he went out to score.

Her son, who once could do no wrong in her loving eyes
Before his time had been laid to rest.
With tears she regrettably said her goodbyes
Whilst packing away his memories in the old attic chest.

 Yet just across town her son breathed in air,
With no one to lend a hand, and now also a care.

© Andrew Stevenson 13/03/2017

A sonnet written from a perspective. I have an old school friend who overdosed on drugs - very sad, and dangerous!

Thank you. Love love, Andrew. Bye.

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